Sold To The Devil: Escaping My Ruthless Husband
I was standing in the center of the gallery, holding a glass of expensive champagne, when the screens behind me flickered and my life ended.
It was supposed to be an art unveiling, but the monitors shifted to fake footage of me handing evidence to the FBI.
My fiancé, Ethan, looked at me like I was a sick dog that needed to be put down.
My father slapped me across the face in front of everyone, disowning me to save his own skin.
That was when Luca Vitti, the city’s most dangerous man, stepped in.
He cleared the room and took my hand.
I thought he was saving me.
I didn't realize he was just collecting a new pet.
I was locked in his estate, isolated and terrified.
Then, my healthy mother suddenly "died" of pneumonia in a Vitti clinic.
Days later, I saw Luca’s frail stepsister, Clara, breathing easily for the first time in her life.
She had my mother’s lungs.
I became nothing more than a breeding vessel.
When I fell pregnant, I overheard Luca and Ethan planning my death.
"Once the kid is cut out, she's a loose end," Luca had said.
They were going to kill me and give my son to the woman who stole my mother's breath.
I couldn't let that happen.
So, I staged a tragedy.
I induced labor in secret, hid my living son, and placed a fake corpse in the crib with a note: The Vitti Legacy.
I escaped while they mourned.
Five years later, Luca finally found the doctor’s confession.
He learned that Clara had orchestrated everything.
He opened the velvet box I left behind and realized it was empty.
Now, he knows I didn't kill his son.
I saved him from becoming a monster like his father.
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Chapter 4
Alessia POV
The nursery was painted a soft, buttercup yellow.
In this mausoleum of a house, it was the only room that dared to possess color.
I sat in the rocking chair, my hands resting on the hollow curve of my stomach.
It had been two years.
Two years of suffocating silence.
Two years of striving to be the perfect, pliable wife.
And the reward? Two tiny, fresh graves in the family plot.
The first miscarriage happened at three months.
I woke up in a terrifying pool of blood. The doctor—the same man who had watched my mother fade away—dismissed it as stress.
He told me my body was too weak, his voice void of sympathy.
The second loss occurred at four months.
I had been faithfully drinking the herbal tea Luca insisted on.
He claimed it was an old family recipe for fertility, but it carried the distinct, cloying aftertaste of bitter almonds.
Clara came to visit me after that second loss.
She sat on the edge of my bed, looking radiant, her chest rising and falling with an ease that mocked my own struggle.
"Poor Ava," she cooed.
She reached out, her fingers brushing my arm. They were ice against my feverish skin.
"It must be devastating to be so broken. Luca wants an heir so badly. It’s a shame you can’t give him one."
She stood up and began pacing the room, trailing her hands over my possessions as if cataloging her inventory.
"Maybe it’s for the best," she mused. "The Vitti blood is strong. It needs a strong vessel."
I watched her.
I saw the way she looked at Luca when he walked into a room—hungry and possessive.
I saw the way Luca hovered over her, checking her temperature, adjusting her shawl with a tenderness he never showed me.
"Why are you always here, Clara?" I asked, my voice a raspy ruin.
She smiled, a slow, predatory curving of lips.
"Because this is my house, Ava. You just live in it."
Luca entered then.
He didn't look at me.
His eyes went straight to Clara.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, concern etching his brow. "You look pale."
"I’m fine, Luca," she lied, her voice dropping an octave to a pitch of practiced helplessness. "Just a little tired. Ava was just telling me how sad she is."
Luca turned to me.
His eyes were hard, devoid of warmth.
"Stop upsetting her, Ava. You know stress is bad for her condition."
He helped Clara out of the room, leaving me alone in the bed with the cramps, the blood, and the suspicion that was starting to harden into certainty.
I stopped drinking the tea.
Instead, I started pouring it into the potted plant in the corner.
The plant withered and died within a week, its leaves curling brown and brittle.
Six months later, I was pregnant again.
I didn't tell Luca until I couldn't hide it.
I lived like a woman under siege. I ate only food I prepared myself. I drank only water from sealed bottles.
I grew big.
I felt the baby kick, strong and vibrant.
It was a boy. I named him Leo in the quiet sanctuary of my mind.
I made it to eight months.
I was huge, swollen, and terrified. But for the first time, I was hopeful.
Maybe a child would change things.
Maybe a son would make Luca look at me with something other than contempt.
I was wrong.
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8.0
My father gave me an ultimatum: marry a man I despise or lose my entire inheritance. I chose to run, boarding a private jet with no intention of looking back.
But his reach is absolute. The phone buzzed before we even left New York airspace.
"Send me a picture with Sterling now," his voice barked, "or I'm calling your pilot to turn that jet around."
I faked the photo and fled to Las Vegas, my last resort. My mission was simple: find my father's illegitimate son, the one secret that could break his hold over me.
My only lead was a grainy picture of a ruthless fixer, a man who cleaned up my father's messes. I found him in a desolate diner, a giant of a man surrounded by a wall of guards.
I gambled everything on a single coin toss for the information I needed. He saw right through my desperate bluff.
He leaned in close, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
"In my city, the house always wins."
I was left standing there, humiliated and defeated. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder.
"But you're lucky. Today, I'm just curious what Howard Bright's daughter is doing so far from home."
He had seen me not as a threat, but as a curiosity. I had lost the battle, but I wasn't done yet. I was no longer running. I was hunting.
7.5
"Let's play a game."
"What game?"
"One that involves you not screaming."
★★★★★
I'd been the perfect girlfriend to my star hockey player for two years.
Stood in the rain at his practices. Drove hours just to watch him warm benches. Wore his jersey like it meant something.
And he repaid me by fucking his way through half of Chicago-including the sister of the one man he's been obsessed with for years.
Zane Mercer.
The NHL's most dangerous player. My stepfather's worst enemy. And the man who looked at me like I was something worth destroying the world for.
One impossible offer.
One desperate bet.
One night that changed everything.
Zane doesn't do fake. He doesn't do half measures.
When he tells me I'm his for two months, he means it. In every way that matters.
But Zane has secrets buried so deep they connect to my family's past in ways I never imagined. Dark secrets. Deadly ones.
What starts as a transaction turns into obsession.
What starts as revenge turns into something I can't walk away from.
And what starts as a lie might be the only truth that matters.
They say some men are too dangerous to love.
They're right.
But I was never good at following warnings.
★★★★★
This book contains explicit sexual content, dominant/possessive behavior, morally gray characters, family conflict, and themes that may be triggering. Intended for mature readers 18+.
This isn't your normal hockey romance. It's dark, raw, and unrelenting-where obsession, desire, and power collide, and nothing is off-limits.
7.6
When the kidnapper pressed a tactical knife to Falon's throat and demanded a one-million-dollar ransom, she was certain her fiancé would pay.
Instead, Jerod's annoyed voice echoed through the speaker. He was busy cutting a cake with his fragile, manipulative mistress, Abby.
"Do whatever you want with her," Jerod told the thug. "I am done."
The call disconnected. Left to die, Falon was injected with a lethal black-market aphrodisiac. She fought her way out, escaping into the freezing rain, and threw herself at the mercy of a stranger in a black Maybach. That stranger was Bell Farrell, a ruthless billionaire and Jerod's biggest corporate rival. To survive the burning drug and shatter the memories of her fiancé's betrayal, she gave herself to the devil that night.
The next morning, Falon woke up in a stranger's bed, staring at her bruised skin. For four years, she had endured her abusive family's cruelty, watching them treat her fake, adopted sister like a princess while using Falon as a corporate pawn. She had compromised everything for Jerod, only to be thrown away like garbage.
Why did she have to suffer while the people who destroyed her played the victims?
Falon took off her five-carat engagement ring and threw it in the trash.
She put on a sharp black suit and crashed her family's elite ballroom gala, ready to burn their high-society facade to the ground.
9.1
I drowned in freezing pool water, the mocking laughter of the elite Savage family echoing in my ears.
When I opened my eyes, I was an eight-year-old orphan again, right on the day those monsters came to adopt me.
Terrified of repeating my hellish past, I ran down the hallway and desperately grabbed the shirt of a random, dumpy IT guy, begging him to take me instead.
I thought I had chosen a weak, boring suburban dad to hide behind.
But I was completely wrong.
My new mom greeted me with a ceramic tactical knife hidden in her apron.
My clumsy dad sliced dinner ribs with the terrifying precision of a seasoned hitman.
My ten-year-old brother was a dead-eyed sociopath who immediately calculated my bone density.
They were a family of lethal underworld monsters, yet they frantically pretended to be a normal, pathetic household just for me.
7.2
Aldan Anabelle was destined to be a luna, beautiful, talented and heir of the great Kam kingdom. Everything was perfect, until one faithful night, her parents died in a fatal accident. Planned by an unknown clan, set up by her uncle Raven. After the death of her parents, life turned into a nightmare, uncle molested and maltreated her.
To protect her father's legacy, she's sent to leave with her fated mate for 5yrs, the only way to get her legacy was if she could break his stone heart. Alpha Roman, a cold-hearted heir of Fangspire pack, vowed never to love because of his stepmother's maltreatment. Within 5 years, he fell in love with her.... after a long time of tormenting her. Their worlds merge, their hearts ignite and their bond becomes unbreakable.
Not until she was kidnapped, did everything go sour. Her fashion show trips became a trap for taking her blood. To prevent the prophecy from coming through, her uncle planned her death. But unknown to them, nobody was found. Anabelle never died that day. She rises from the ashes under a new name. A powerful businesswoman whose internal desire was filled with revenge.
When fate pushes them together again, they stand on opposite sides of destiny.
Driven by misunderstanding and anger toward each other.
Love. Betrayal. Revenge
A Luna who returns from ashes to regain her throne, legacy.
And a mate, who would destroy the kingdom to earn her forgiveness.
"Would she be able to defeat her uncle plots?" and win the heart of the cold hearted Alpha.
7.3
I was summoned home from boarding school for a funeral, thinking my family finally wanted me back. I stood in the pouring rain, watching a mahogany casket disappear into the mud, while the silence in my head felt like it was drowning me.
That night, I hid behind a tapestry and listened through a vent to my father’s study. He wasn't talking about grief. He was talking about "tissue compatibility" and "near-perfect matches" with the family lawyer.
They didn't want a daughter; they wanted a donor. My father’s voice was devoid of emotion as he discussed "the harvest." My half-sister was dying, and I was the spare part they had been growing for years. They had even removed the lock from my bedroom door so I could never truly shut them out.
The realization shattered me. I was just a biological backup plan, a life deemed less valuable than the one they preferred. How could a father look at his own child and see nothing but a heart to be cut out and transplanted?
I didn't wait for them to come for me. I stuffed a backpack, flushed my SIM card, and climbed out the window into a thunderstorm. I caught a bus to the middle of nowhere, ending up in a seat next to a massive, predatory man named Hoyt who looked like he’d killed people for less than a seat preference.
He pinned my wrist with a grip like iron and growled, "Who sent you?"
I couldn't speak to defend myself, but as we rolled into a dying town called Blackwood Creek, I knew one thing for certain. I would rather take my chances with a stranger with a gun than stay another night with the family that wanted me dead.